Blake nodded. “Me too.”
“I could too, but something tells me I’m loading the dishwasher,” Katie mumbled.
Shane leaned forward to shoot her a wink. “In my house the people who load the dishwasher get first crack at dessert. Wanna adopt that tradition?”
“Yes!” Danny was gathering plates a second later.
In a flurry of activity, the table was cleared, and Matt and Blake had disappeared out the front door, most likely in search of Kent. Miranda hovered near the doorway, clearly at a loss for what to do. And Evan watched Katie glaring a hole in her sister’s head.
“Ease up,” he said quietly as they leaned over the sink.
“No.” Katie sighed as she scraped off a plate into the disposal. “She’s ruining the holiday. Again. She’s making that poor skinny boy so upset. And I’m sick of it.”
“She’s… she’s just still missing Mom….” Evan couldn’t help but stand up for Miranda. He couldn’t abandon her, even now.
“Really? Seriously? Me too.” Katie slammed the plate on the counter. “All the time. But you know what? I don’t feel the need to make everyone else feel like shit.”
The whispers and plate slamming caught Cornelia’s attention, which was exactly what Evan didn’t want. He put his arm around Katie’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Relax. Please?”
Katie let out a frustrated sigh. “Right. I’m the good one. I’m not supposed to get pissed.”
She said it without heat, without malice, just a heavy dose of reality.
“You can be pissed all you want. I’m just trying to get through dessert without Cornelia calling Social Services on me,” Evan tried to joke.
“They think we’re awful and crazy, don’t they?”
“Yeah. I was worried about the gay thing. I totally forgot the emotionally constipated and explosive drama stuff.”
“We should come with a warning label, Dad.”
Helena supervised the rest of the cleanup, and Shane pulled Cornelia into conversation after conversation. Evan owed him at least a kidney by the time they got everything put away and the coffee started.
“If you ever need anything—internal organ, a getaway car—seriously, I’m there for you,” Evan murmured to Shane as they reentered the dining room.
The younger man snorted. “Aw come on—this is fun. It’s also ending up in my next play, so… forewarned.”
“God, at least make me have more hair and more patience.”
“Deal.”
“Excuse me, Evan?”
He turned to find Cornelia, arms folded over her chest.
“Can I get you something?” he asked, still holding on to his politeness.
“Actually I’d like to speak with you for a moment in private.”
It was a summoning, and Shane whistled as he headed in the opposite direction.
Lucky.
Evan turned on his heel, following Cornelia into the kitchen. He knew there she might be pissed about any number of things, from the drama to the host of surprises. He started crafting apologies as soon as they stepped into the room.
“Evan, I just wanted to say I appreciate you hosting us for Thanksgiving, but I’m just… I’m not sure I feel supportive of Kent and Miranda’s relationship.” Her words were a rush. He could hear the anger and stress fueling each syllable.
He nodded, the urge to defend his daughter automatic. “They’re young and—”
“It was nothing to do with age. Blake and I were married at nineteen.” She frowned. “I just don’t think Miranda is the sort of person I want my son associating with.”
Evan’s mood soured from apologetic to excuse me? and he quickly matched Cornelia’s expression. “She has some issues with her mother’s death—that’s not really a character defect.” His tone could cut concrete.
“No, it’s not. But it is being used as a weapon with my son a pawn in her little game. I’m not blind, Evan. And I’m not stupid. She set us up by not saying anything about you living with another man. She was assuming we were homophobes, and that is just… insulting.” Her face turned red, her eyes glassy with tears. “She is using Kent as revenge and… and… you know, we’ve heard nothing but good things from him for months. He’s crazy about her.”
Evan sighed. “I’m sorry for Miranda’s behavior, and I understand your frustration.”
“You do? How nice. Do you also understand that our values are very different than yours?”
That took him aback.
“What are you talking about?”
“We are very antigun in our household, and to be staying here without being told in advance….”
That blindsided him. Evan couldn’t wrap his mind around what she was saying for a moment. “Told what? That we have guns in the house? I’m a policeman. Matt and I are very comfortable with firearms and storing them safely.” Evan’s hackles were up now.
“I’m supposed to take your word for it? Everything about this visit has been misrepresented by your daughter.” Cornelia’s voice hit a higher pitch.
“You came here without knowing anything about us—how is that my fault? Pick up the damn phone if you’re so particular about the kind of people you spend time with,” Evan snapped. “It’s not my responsibility.”
That brought a nasty expression to Cornelia’s face. “No, your responsibility is raising a child with the right values and morals—I’m surprised she hasn’t announced she’s pregnant yet.”
The first thought to flash through Evan’s head was Lady, get the fuck out of my house, but self-control prevailed. Barely.
“You don’t know my daughter, and you don’t know me, so kindly refrain from making judgments like that,” he managed to get out. “And please feel free to get your bags and find a gunless hotel.”
Evan turned on his heel, heading for the back door because there was no way he could face anyone at this moment. The sliding door thumped behind him as he walked onto the deck.
Fury ate through his stomach. He tightened his hands into fists, pacing in wild circles as fallen leaves crunched under his feet.
The nerve. The fucking nerve. He needed to find Miranda and get control back, but for the moment, he wasn’t going near anybody.
Chapter 11
“SOOOO,” MATT said as he and Blake walked down the front steps. “Fun family times. All we need is someone else to announce they’re gay and then a drunken fistfight, and I think we qualify for a reality show.”
Blake laughed, running both hands through his hair. Matt figured he was a good approximation of what Kent would look like in his forties, once he gained about forty pounds and spent some time in the sun. “I’m not really prepared for stuff like this. It’s been just the three of us for years, and this is….”
“Chaos. Sorry. We really should come with a warning label.” Matt tucked his hands in his pockets, turning left as they hit the sidewalk. About three houses down, he spotted Kent, who was walking slowly with the occasional kick to an imaginary rock.
“No, no. I understand. Well, I think I understand.” Blake shrugged. “I take it Miranda and Evan don’t always get along.”
“Polite understatement. I like that.” Matt sighed. “They’re a lot alike. Same exact fighting styles. It’s like an emotional cockfight most of the time. Plus, you know, Miranda doesn’t exactly love me being around.” It was a reality he wasn’t particularly fond of, but he also wasn’t a stupid man. He knew Miranda had never warmed to him like the other three had. He knew about the resentment and the anger. He knew how much she missed Sherri.
And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about any of it.
“Ah. The other kids….”
“What can I say—natural charm and bribery worked really well with them.” He shrugged. “Miranda misses her mom, and I’m a constant living reminder how she isn’t here anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” Blake matched his steps as they got closer to where Kent was. “I was a real jerk to my stepmother for yea
rs. For what it’s worth, I regret it. And we’ve made our peace.”
“Well, I’ll keep hoping, then,” Matt said, though deep down, the fear never quite left him.
What if Evan were better off without him?
“Hey, son,” Blake called out. Kent turned around, his face pale under the blotchy red spots on his forehead and cheeks. He looked about four seconds away from tears, and Matt found himself suddenly sad.
Young love sucked. Old love wasn’t much easier, but at least you had some scar tissue built up around your heart to make it hurt a little less.
“Hey, Dad. Sorry about that.” Kent wrapped his arms around his chest. They were all cold, Matt realized. And most likely the other two were no more interested in returning to Tension House than he was.
“It’s okay, kid. I think we get it.” Matt tried to smile reassuringly. “Just some rocky stuff. Totally normal.”
Kent’s mouth wobbled as he tried to form words. “She lied. Or at least she left stuff out.” He looked at Matt apologetically. “You and Mr. Cerelli being together. It wouldn’t have mattered to me. It doesn’t.”
“Well, good. I’m glad to hear that,” Matt teased the kid gently. “Because I’m old and set in my ways.”
“I’m just confused. I thought we were, you know, honest with each other.” He looked so crestfallen.
Blake gave his son’s arm a squeeze, and Matt took a moment to appreciate the kind of father this guy was. He wasn’t smothering, but he did let the kid know he was there for him.
“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” Matt said, dropping his voice a bit. He made a show of looking left, then right. “Cerellis are amazing people. Smart, passionate… stubborn, secretive, and they go from ten to a hundred in five seconds flat, no matter what the emotion.” He winked. “They hate to be wrong, even when they really, really are.”
“So I shouldn’t hold my breath for an apology?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get one. You have to talk to her, though, let her know why you’re hurt. Spell it out a little.”
Kent sighed.
“Yeah, I know. Not all hearts and flowers,” Matt said.
“It’s just a lot more complicated than I thought,” Kent admitted.
Matt and Blake laughed. “Oh wait, it gets worse,” the boy’s father said.
They took the long way home, a loop around the neighborhood, making small talk before approaching the house. Sports, school, Kent’s internship at a nonprofit. No one had thought to bring their cell phone, so they were essentially coming in blind—which made finding Miranda sitting on the stairs and Cornelia in the car all the more fun.
“Ah, okay. You each take a significant other. I’m going to make sure Evan isn’t on the roof….” Matt gave them a wink.
He and Miranda exchanged a cool look before he walked inside. That was a conversation he was scheduling for half past never fucking ever because frankly, he didn’t feel like being either the adult or the bigger person. Screw it—he was immature and vindictive. Kent was a nice kid, and Miranda deserved to get dumped.
Let her learn a lesson about manipulating people. Let her feel the sting of betraying someone’s trust. It might curtail this sort of bullshit before she got older. Who knew what damage she could do to a kid?
He was four steps into the foyer when one of those pesky realization things hit him in the face.
Oh. Right.
“Thanks, Mom, as always,” he murmured dryly.
The television was on—football—with Shane napping in the easy chair and Danny sacked across the sofa with inelegant ease. He looked up as Matt passed by. They exchanged shrugs and “whatever” eyebrow raises, which made Matt feel as warm as a hug.
“Dad?”
“Out back, pacing. You know, I was thinking we need a woodpile and an ax out there so he can whack stuff when he gets like this,” Danny deadpanned.
Matt was clearly raising this boy right.
“Your dad and sharp objects are never a good idea. Plus we don’t have a fireplace.” Matt gestured to the empty seats in the room.
“Helena, Katie, and Elizabeth are in the back room checking out the Black Friday sales.” He shook his head. “Oh, and that lady and Dad had a huge fight, and she got her bags. So we’ll have extra dessert.”
“Good to know.” Matt clapped his hands together, and Shane startled in his sleep. “Off to deal with your dad.”
Danny snickered.
Matt walked through the clean kitchen and to the back deck, then paused at the sliding glass door to watch his lover making a wide circuit, dodging stacked chairs and the covered grill on his way. A shaft of sadness hit his gut, the never-ending frustration of how he couldn’t quite help Evan find the peace he so desperately needed. They’d gotten closer. Better. Days and weeks when things were quiet and comfortable and happy. Then a bump and, more often than not, the spiral of Evan’s moods.
Matt spent a lot of time talking to his friend slash therapist Liz about this, more time in semifake therapy than Evan ever had. It was something he had to deal with—not just Evan’s moods but the fact that it wasn’t his job to fix them.
Except he couldn’t help but keep trying.
Matt pushed the door open and stepped onto the deck. Another burst of late-November wind blew by, and he wished he’d remembered a coat this time. He could barely feel his hands at this point.
“Hey,” he called, deceptively casual. He put his hands in his pockets, trying to get some feeling back in his fingers.
Evan paused. When he turned, Matt could see his expression was… lost. That somehow hurt worse than the sadness he was expecting.
“Hey. Did they leave?”
“Noooo. I think Blake was going to talk to Cornelia. PS, he’s a good guy. So’s his kid. Kent and Miranda—who knows?” Matt took a few steps toward Evan. “The ladies are spending your money, Shane is in a turkey coma, and Danny just wants his fair share of pie.”
“Today has turned out worse than I imagined. And that’s impressive considering how pessimistic I am.”
Matt closed the distance between them. When their shoulders touched, he pushed gently against Evan’s side. “It’s not that bad.”
Evan shook his head. “You don’t know….”
“What? What don’t I know?”
“Miranda’s really….” Evan looked away.
Matt—because he knew, he always knew—reached down to take his hand. “Miranda really secretly hates me? Except not so secretly?” he asked gently.
“It’s not hate.”
“No, it’s misplaced anger. I get it.” Matt squeezed their fingers together. “Not gonna lie and pretend it doesn’t matter, because it hurts my feelings like a motherfucker.”
Evan turned back, his face locked into a painful grimace. “I don’t—I honestly don’t know what to do.”
“I can volunteer to move out for a while, let Miranda come back here and—”
But Evan shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“She’s your kid. And I can go stay at the work site for a few weeks.” Matt’s voice was sure, even as his heart hurt. But he would do it without a second thought if it meant easing the expression of defeat on Evan’s face. “The kids come first.”
Evan sagged next to him as the grip on his hand got harder. “I don’t want to be manipulated like that. And in the end, what does it matter? You’ll come back, and she’ll be angry.”
Matt opened his mouth to say more, to be so graciously self-sacrificing, but Evan narrowed his eyes, and his downturned mouth morphed into something angry. “Don’t you dare.”
“Fine,” Matt said, halfway between breezy and pained. “I was just going for my martyr badge.”
“Shut up.”
Evan leaned over for a kiss, taking Matt’s mouth with a ferocity he usually reserved for a few too many beers and no kids at home. He pulled him closer, manipulating their bodies until they were flush together, chest to chest.
Evan bit
and licked him until his lips hurt. Matt didn’t push back—he just let Evan have his way and take his pent-up anger and sadness and frustration and confusion out on his mouth. And when Matt pulled away for some desperately needed air, the fierce hunger on his lover’s face melted his spine.
“I love you. And I’m not choosing.”
Matt’s chest hurt; he guessed it was his heart trying to beat right out of his chest. He touched Evan’s face gently, just his fingers stroking the curve of his jaw. “I love you too.”
They kissed again, easy and chaste.
Chapter 12
HAND IN hand, Evan and Matt walked back into the kitchen. Matt muttered something about coffee. He gave Evan’s hand one more squeeze, then moved away to get warm. Evan watched him lovingly for a moment.
The thought of him leaving…. Once upon a time, he might have said yes. Might have agreed to the separation to gain some control over the situation. But unlike that previous incarnation, Evan didn’t operate on fear anymore. And the idea of Matt not being there with him, with the family, made him sick to his stomach.
He wasn’t choosing. But there had to be a better way to convey that to Miranda. Because just like he didn’t want to be forced to choose one over the other, he couldn’t let his daughter keep drifting away.
The dining room was abuzz with conversation as he walked in. The younger kids were at the table with Shane, Helena, and Blake. A deck of colorful cards was set up in the center, with Elizabeth marking scores neatly on a legal pad.
“Hi, Daddy.” She smiled up at him, tentative as she tried to gauge his mood.
He didn’t hesitate to walk over. “Hi, sweetheart. Who’s winning?” Evan put his arm around Elizabeth, stroking her hair.
“Blake.”
“Congrats—they’re all ruthless card sharks at this game.” He gave the other man a nod.
“I can see that.” Blake smiled, friendly and open—very different than the argument Evan had had with Cornelia. Who wasn’t anywhere to be found. “I’m holding on to a slim lead, I assure you.”
Helena cracked the deck in her hand and shuffled it like a Vegas pro. “Undercover at an illegal gambling operation,” she said to Shane, who was giving her a strange look.
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